


IN THE MOONLIGHT

by wayvbabey



Series: NCT HALLOWEEN SERIES: NCT Dream [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayvbabey/pseuds/wayvbabey
Summary: With the full moon approaching, Jeno makes the unfortunate decision to sneak up on you when you’re out picking herbs. He soon realises it’s a mistake, and then the two of you are launched in a race against time to get back what you’ve lost.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Reader
Series: NCT HALLOWEEN SERIES: NCT Dream [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956091
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

-

You hum a gentle tune as the grass swishes around you, brushing up against your jeans and reaching out as if to welcome you home. The melody is foreign to you, something you’ve made up on the spot, but it helps to break the silence in the woods.

Not that the woods is ever _really_ silent. You’re sure that if you were quiet enough, if you sat down and listened, you would hear every rustle in the undergrowth, every cry from the wild animals and every giggle from the nymphs down by the lake.

Your hum is broken by a soft sigh. If only you had the time to do that, especially on a night like this.

Tilting back your head, you greet the stars with a smile on your face. Shining the brightest is the full moon that glowers back softly from where it hovers in the sky, trying to escape the clouds that seek to hide it away. Although you’ve come out quite late, the howls have not started yet, meaning there is still time for you to get your chores done before you must leave.

A small clinking sound draws your attention back to reality. Looking down at the large storage jar you carry in your arms, you watch as the five small lights zip around impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise softly to them. “It won’t be much further, and after that I can let you out.”

You’re unsure if spirits will ever listen to a command from a witch. The last time someone had tried you were five and they had escaped into your neighbour’s pantry. The mess they had left behind was quite extreme.

But you loved them nevertheless. It wasn’t in your nature to get angry and so their mischievousness only served to make you laugh. There was a childlike innocence that surrounded the spirits which drew you in. Perhaps that was why you had been tasked with this job.

You carry on through the fields until the forest surrounds you, dark, thick trees bending your way either to say hello or peer curiously at the spirits you have in your possession.

The woods you are in have never been walked upon by a human’s foot. That is, a mundane human. They would never be able to get through the sheen of glamour that protects this secret little world, which leaves you and a few other supernatural creatures to be the only visitors from the outside.

Perhaps that’s why you love it so. It is a safe haven here, no matter the time or place. Even now, when it’s pitch black, the fireflies light up the night and the bright white dots you see in the distance can only be pixies, disturbed by the pull of the moon and roused into becoming nocturnal.

The tapping starts again and although you could stay in this forest forever, you know you must go.

Creatures from all around gather to watch you walk, hiding behind branches and clumps of moss as they eye up your human clothes and noisy presence. You pay them no mind, trying your hardest not to get lost as you navigate deeper and deeper into the woods.

You needn’t have worried about losing your way, though. The flowers you seek only bloom on the full moon but when they do, you can see them for _miles_. It’s almost as if they shine brighter than the stars and a smile appears on your face as you spot their iridescent light, something you have only previously seen in journals and factbooks. Even the spirits become more restless, tapping at the glass.

“All right, all right.” You try to soothe them. “We’re going to get closer, just wait!”

A twig snaps in the distance and the spirits still. You whip your head around, noticing how the forest seems to have gone quiet, and dark.

Part of you wants to stand your ground and see what’s there, but your human nature holds out and you hurry towards the safety of the lights. Their comforting glow soothes your nerves although logically, you shouldn’t be worried. There shouldn’t be anything here that could hurt you.

Upon closer inspection, to call the Moon Lilies beautiful would be an understatement.

Each one acts as if it is living a life of its own. There are so many colours, too many to count, that melt together to give the field the glow so many desire, and when you gently reach out to caress a petal, the colour practically bleeds into your hand, leaving the tips of your fingers stained with light.

“I guess that’s not going to wash out.” You look down at your jeans, which have already become tainted by walking into the field, with a fond smile before getting to work.

Hallow’s Eve is, as expected, a pivotal time for witches. It is for any supernatural creature really, but tonight is when magic is at its peak. Energy is drawn from the moon in a phenom that only happens annually, and once that energy is harnessed then the most powerful of spells can be cast. 

But these powerful spells require the most powerful of ingredients, and you must deliver a dozen petals before the moon disappears. Any later and then will lose the colour they are so revered for.

You like to suppose that you were chosen by the council because of your gentle hands. You have never been the best at offensive spells but, like your mother, you have a way with nature. It is said only the softest of touches can convince the Moon Lilies to drop a petal, so when the first one glows a beautiful vibrant red and drops into your outstretched palm, a swell of pride rises up in your chest.

There is a rustle in the distance but you are too preoccupied with the beauty of the plants to be distracted. You try to space out your delicate deforestation, taking only the ones that are willing to give. No one flower is the same, for the next one bursts into a mixture of yellow, then orange, before curling up and dropping into your hand.

You carry on like this until your bag is full. Inside, their colour has diminished only a little, but the sight is enough to make you want to get out and snap a photo, if only your phone worked in here.

The spirits have been silent the whole time, but once they realise your job is done and you are leaving, they begin to protest and hit the glass walls in defiance. With a glance down, you realise that they too are in awe of the Moon Lilies.

So you can’t help but oblige their curiosity. Stopping in your track, you lean down and ghost your fingertips along the edge of a large sea-green petal until it droops enough for you to gently take it away.

“Don’t you _dare_ come out,” you warn the spirits gently, beginning to unscrew the lid. They wait at the bottom obediently and their light, a mixture of pink, green, blue, white and indigo, is so bright it almost blinds you.

“Here you go.” You smile as you lower the petal in. Like you, they take ahold of it gently, treating it as if it’s a priceless jewel. Your smile only grows as they being to speak to each other, a melodic sound that is too high-pitched for your ears but no doubt shows that they are excited-

There’s a noise behind you. A short, sharp huff that causes you to look around abruptly.

“ _Oh my Goodness!_ ” You cry out, clutching a hand to your chest. 

The fireflies are back now and with their light, you can make out two yellow eyes peering at you from across the field.

They belong to a wolf, far too big to be a normal one that would’ve accidentally wandered through. It watches you, head cocked, while you try to calm your racing heart.

Unfortunately, you have taken your eyes off the spirits. Upon seeing you are otherwise engaged, they spirits make for the exit and it’s only once you get distracted by their light that you realise what they’re doing. Panic consumes you as you hastily clamp the lid back on, looking down frantically to see how many have escaped.

One, two, three. That’s it. Two have escaped.

“No,” you mumble softly to yourself. The remaining spirits stare at you pitifully, alternating between that and watching the new arrival, who you turn your attention to once again.

“Jeno!” You scold, though you don’t really have the heart to be angry. The wolf’s ears flatten back and it looks down, taking a few more tentative steps closer. For a moment, you debate letting him wander into the field and suffer the consequences but ultimately decide against it. After all, if he met the others covered in luminescent petal residue, he would never hear the end of it.

“Don’t come any closer,” you advise. He takes it the wrong way, whining gently, but when you stand up to show him the state of your jeans he makes an odd huffing noise, close to a laugh.

“Don’t _mock_ me!” You glare. “Don’t you realise what you’ve just done?”

He pauses for a moment, regarding you curiously, before slinking away behind one of the thick trees that surround the field. Moments later you hear the sickening crack and pop of bones and then Jeno emerges, still wearing the same guilty expression he had on only seconds earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises straight away, coming to stand right at the edge of the field. “I was just out on a run to kill some of this energy and then I picked up your scent. I thought- since it’s Halloween -that you wouldn’t mind a scare.”

“It’s fine,” you soothe him, eager to get rid of the anxious look in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been messing about. It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t say that,” he frowns, extending a hand for you to grab as you wade out of the sea of flowers. Despite his superhuman strength he gently pulls you out, his touch lingering for a second too long to be considered normal before he pulls away. Then he catches sight of your jar and his eyes widen in amazement.

“Are they-”

“Yep,” you hold it out for him to get a better look. “Though I’m surprised the lilies haven’t caught your attention. They only bloom once a year, you know.”

“I see,” he glances to them, then to your jeans before trying to hide a smile. “So they sent their best witch to go collect some samples?”

“Stop it,” you look down, fighting the blush that rises to your cheeks. Unfortunately, there’s no hiding it from Jeno. As soon as you lift your head his eyes study the newfound heat with an adoration that is quickly blinked away.

“So, I take it the spirits won’t come back?” He ventures unsurely.

You sigh. “Not without some proper encouragement, I’m afraid,” you reply. “They know how important tonight it but they’re mischevious by nature, so they shouldn’t have gone far. Let’s see,” you peer down at the jar again. “Green and blue are missing. The blue spirit will be easy to find, since it dwells near the river, but the green spirit could be anywhere in these woods.”

Jeno wrinkles his nose. “Do they have a scent?”

“It’ll be covered by the Moon Lily,” you sigh sadly. “It won’t be too disasterous if I only have three, it just means the spells tonight will be less powerful.” And you’ll probably lose the council’s trust, but you won’t tell Jeno that.

“Well,” Jeno glances up at the sky and you see a shudder ripple through him as he catches sight of the moon. When he glances back to you, the rings of his irises are tinted yellow. “We better get looking.”

“Oh no,” you protest once you realise he intends to come with you, casting a quick glance up to the sky. The moon is indeed rising, and quickly. “You won’t have time to get back to your pack! I can do it on my own, don’t worry.”

He shakes his head determinedly. “I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you to miss out on anything.” You know the full moon is a big deal for werewolves, especially on Halloween. It doesn’t help that the physical change in Jeno is already manifesting. The edge of his irises are no longer fading back to their usual warm brown and he seems to be larger somehow, practically dwarfing your small frame. The heat that emanates from him is enough to want to make you shed your jumper, and you know the closer the moon gets to the sky, the less likely he’ll be able to resist the change.

You’ve also heard horror stories of werewolves losing control during the full moon. After all, you were given a curfew to be back by so that the wolves could have a free run of the forest with no distractions.

But it’s _Jeno_ , you boy you’ve known almost all your life.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells you firmly. “Now come on, I’ll lead the way to the river.”

-

You hear the river before you see it. The walk is only five minutes long and you don’t doubt that Jeno, with his keen sense of hearing, has chosen the quickest route to get you there.

Sure enough, you spot the blue spirit dancing in the sky, gliding about in smooth arcs much like the water below it. The river moves slowly; it’s in no rush, and the trees that grow on the banks are thin and tall. Behind them, you can see a raised hill, covered in rocks which serve as a waterfall for the water to flow down.

“How are we going to get it?” Jeno asks.

You nibble on your lip. “I’ve never had to do this before, but the books say that the calmer and happier you remain around these guys, the easier it is. Getting you riled up is like a game to them, so if we prove we’re just playing about and mean no harm, it should make it easier.”

“Got it,” Jeno moves his neck from side to side. “No hunting it. Should be easy enough.”

You glance at him nervously. Surely he can’t fight his instincts this close to the full moon?

But he proves you wrong, dropping his shoulders and sauntering over to the spirit with forced stillness. The spirit now seems aware the two of you are here and moves back to the other side of the river, where the waterfall is.

“How deep is it?” You call to Jeno with casually. While he tests it out, you keep your eyes on the spirit, which seems content to just roam around while the two of you figure out what to do.

“Knee-height,” he relays back. “Reckon it’ll wash off that weird paint on your jeans?”

“One way to find out!” You call out, before plunging straight in.

The water, albeit magical, fairy-woods water, is still cold, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to stop a gasp escaping you. Glancing over to Jeno, you realise he doesn’t have the same problem, happily wading across with no problem at all.

You should have cast a spell before getting in.

Due to your height, the water reaches around your elbows and by the time you reach the other side you’re shivering and your arms ache from keeping your valuables from getting wet.

“Are you okay?” Jeno’s voice, filled with concern, drifts over to you.

“I will be once we catch it,” you call back, reaching the other side and hauling yourself out. “Just focus on that.”

As if its heard you, the spirit glides along until it’s in the centre of the river. Then it hovers there for a moment and you watch in fascination as small, football-sized bubbles of water start rising slowly from the river.

Soon, the whole bank is covered with them. Some reach the tips of the trees while some are only centimetres from the floor. One stops right in front of you and you can’t help but reach out a hand to touch it. But when you do, it explodes right in your face, drenching you with icy water.

“Y/N!” Jeno calls worriedly, but you cut him off.

“Don’t move- and don’t touch them! It’s _cold._ ”

Just as the words leave your lips, you’re blinded by a sudden rise in light levels. Looking up you see the moon seems to be glowing impossibly brighter, enhancing by a tenfold, so much so that the water droplets begin to reflect the light. It soon becomes impossible for you to stare at them so you look to the ground.

“What do we do?” Jeno calls while you try to figure out what’s going on.

“We need to reach it,” you mutter, “but our path is blocked. So it’s… a game! _Jeno!_ ”

“Yeah?”

“Try to get to the spirit. It hasn’t moved- it’s still in the middle of the lake. But don’t touch the water droplets or they’ll explode on you, and don’t use your eyesight. Just, use those enhanced senses of yours.”

“I thought you said it didn’t have a scent?”

“It doesn’t! But the water smells damp, right? And you can hear the running water in the lake.”

“Got it!” He catches on quickly before falling silent, evidenly to concentrate. You’re content to wait where you are but the remaining spirits start to tap against the glass again. Once you bring them out of your bag you realise they’re up against the glass, pointing left. Hesitantly, you follow, and then all of a sudden they change to point straight on.

They’re helping you.

The spirits guide your way and with every step, you begin to hear the sounds of the running water.

“I’m almost there.” Jeno, who’s voice sounds closer now, speaks up.

“Good, just be nice and gentle.”

“I will.”

You edge closer and closer until your feet start to become wet. 

“You in the water, Jeno?”

“Yeah.”

You brace and wait for the sound of splashing to signal Jeno has captured it, but it never comes.

Instead, a solid body mass collides with you and knocks you straight into the water.

The cold water engulfs you immediately, even infiltrating your mouth as you let out a shocked gasp. But as quickly as you’ve become wet you’re hauled back out, only to be met with what seems like mega-sized rain droplets. You feel one splash onto your head and soak your hair before your face is pushed into something damp and warm.

It takes you a moment to realise that Jeno was the one to crash into you, and is now shielding you from the fall of the water bubbles. The heat from his body mixes with the water in his shirt and you let out another gasp, this time for air.

“Jeno,” you wriggle your face away from his chest, about to say something before your attention is caught elsewhere.

"The light has gone, look.”

You feel him move his neck and then freeze as he takes in the sight. With the moon above, the water reflects all the light and life around it as it falls back to where it belongs. You’re caught up in its beauty for a moment, too dumbstruck to move, content to stay next to Jeno as you witness such a rare event.

But when the last droplet hits the water, the blue spirit hovers next to your face. Unfurling from Jeno, who reluctantly lets you go, and opening up the jar, it obediently flies in, happy to have caused enough mischief for the day.

“Well,” you say, “that’s one of them.”

Then you begin to shiver.

“Y/N!”

All of a sudden, Jeno wraps his arms around you and _lifts_ , holding you tightly while carrying you to the other side of the river bank. His body heat spills into you and you can’t help the content sigh you let out, finally warming up.

“I t-think I can d-do a spell for t-this,” you shiver, fumbling around. Jeno catches your hands and encases them in his, blowing gently to warm you up, ignoring your words.

“Better?” He looks down at you gently and as you stare up at him, trying to suppress your shaking, you realise that his face has shifted in the short time you’ve spent apart.

There’s a dark shadow that encases his face, making him look so ethereally beautiful and dangerous at the same time. His jawline seems sharper and his eyes more beast than man, though his concern for you still bleeds through. If you weren’t so cold, you know how uncomfortably hot you would be from being so close to him, and even though he’s cradling your hand you can feel his nails, longer than before, resting against your skin.

“Better.” You confirm, resisting the urge to see if his lips are as warm as the rest of him.

-


	2. Chapter 2

-

After using a quick-drying spell to get the water out of your clothes the two of you leave the river and continue on.

“The green spirit could be anywhere,” you muse, “but I have a feeling it’ll be at the heart of this forest. That’s where it should thrive the most.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help there,” Jeno jokes, but his breathing is heavier now and you notice he can’t stand still. He’s always moving and though you haven’t told him, his eyes are now completely yellow with only a small fleck of black in the middle.

You think they’re beautiful.

“I can,” you chime in softly, laying a hand on his arm to draw his attention to you. It works, almost too well, and his gaze snaps to yours, piercing right through you. “The heart of this forest has the most magic surrounding it, meaning I can link mine to it and trace it.”

“Perfect,” he breathes, eyes lingering on where you’re still touching him. 

You know you should be perturbed by the way Jeno stares. It’s more intense now as if you’re his prey, but you know that deep down he’s just Jeno, the boy you go to school with and also the boy who you’re madly in love with.

Reluctantly drawing your hand away, you inhale and close your eyes, centering yourself and paying attention only to the elements.

Each witch connects with magic in a different way. For you, closing your eyes means your sense of hearing is heightened and soon the gentle running of water and hum of a pixie’s wing is drowned out by a slow, gentle hum of nonsense syllables. A song created only for you, and one only you can hear.

With an exhale, you imagine the tune as if it was a rope, snaking all the way through the forest. It's everywhere, in every branch and rock, but a large mass is snaked in-between the trees, leading away.

You reach out and grab it, eyes flying open.

You’ve moved location, with Jeno now on your left instead of your right. Now you can hear the call of the magic in the back of your mind, singing to you from the depths of the forest.

“This way,” you whisper.

-

As you get closer, things get weird.

“At least we know we’re on the right path,” Jeno snorts and you’re grateful for his humour. In the last half an hour he’s barely spoken once, and when he has it’s a half-choked out apology, to which you assure him he has nothing to be sorry for.

“I think we’re here.” You announce suddenly. The trail of magic has stopped and instead it thrums around you. In the middle of the forest, where the magic is the strongest and the moon shines on down, you feel your own power practically sing in your veins. You feel as if you could lift the trees from the ground, pull the rain from the clouds, or ease the moon back below the horizon.

The moon is almost right above you now.

“Look,” Jeno whispers. Coming down from your power trip, you notice that leaves are falling from the trees. You catch a glimpse of pink and so you extend an arm, crooking a finger which sends a leaf dancing your way.

It’s pink.

“The green spirit is here.” You whisper. 

“No shit,” Jeno echoes, placing two fingers under your chin and lifting it up so you can see what’s happening.

The heart of the forest, being magical, is like no other. Ecosystems of trees and rocks hang from the sky with little streams filtering to the main pool in the middle. The trees wind and twist in strange ways and birds perch upside down on the branches. But most noticeably, some things are tinged a different colour. A tree with a blue trunk, red blades of grass on the floor, all the work of the spirit, you suppose.

A whisper is heard in your ear and you act on instinct, jerking to the side just as a rock soars past you, shooting in the air as if it was a leaf. It rises higher in the sky, blocking out the moon for a split second, before shimmering and turning a dark black, then zooming off again.

You’re so preoccupied you don’t notice Jeno drop to his knees.

“Are you okay?” Your magic aids you in creating a clump of moss for him to fall onto. He clutches his elbows and groans, pawing at his skin and writhing around, eyes shut in pain.

“I can’t stop it,” he gets out. “The moon-”

You look up to the sky and see it’s _so close_ to being directly above you. When it gets there it will be at its most powerful. 

In less than ten minutes Jeno needs to be back with his pack, and right now he is as far away from them as he can get.

Another rock shoots past you and you get an idea.

Your hand extends out and you stop it dead in its tracks. The green spirits’ magic is strong but you have the power of the full moon on your side, so you manage to take it fully into your possession. Then, you flick your wrist and send it higher until it blocks out the moon like the previous one did.

“Better?” You ask.

“Slightly,” Jeno groans. “But we have _minutes_.”

“Can you see the spirit?”

“Saw it on top of that rock,” he spits out. Your magic whispers to you again, a silent assurance that, given your heightened power, it can keep the rock there, so you leave it be before turning back to Jeno and helping him to his feet. His nails are sharper now and the heat radiating off him almost burns you. Where your skin comes into contact magic comes rushing to soothe your irritated skin, cooling you down instantly.

“It’s up there.” His keen eyesight finds it immediately and you follow his gaze. The rocks have stopped moving now and are instead raised in a circular staircase. The green spirit is using your rock as a stand and is waiting there.

“We have to climb to get it,” you realise.

“I- can’t,” Jeno groans again, almost collapsing on you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, _so_ sorry, this is my fault.”

“Don’t apologise for being who you are.” You reprimand him fiercely. “If I can’t reason with the spirits, then what witch am I? Listen,” you take his face in your hands and force him to look at you.

There’s no trace of humanity left in his eyes.

“Get out of here,” you command gently. “I can handle this. I’m not in any danger and as soon as this is done I’ll be heading home. Teleporting, even, if I can find the right runes. You just need to get to your pack.”

“But-”

“I know you can’t resist the pull any longer,” you ghost your thumb over his cheekbone, smiling softly. “Just _go_.”

Then you drop the stone and let the moonlight shine on through.

Jeno releases a horrendous cry but by then you’ve already gone. The roots underneath the surface snake around your legs, helping you jump up to the first stone.

There is another moan and a sickening crack from below you that almost throws you off guard as you leap from one stone to the other. It wobbles nervously under your sudden weight so you splay out your hand to steady it.

_Don’t look at Jeno. Don’t look at Jeno. He’s fine. This is normal for him. Focus on the task at hand._

The next rock begins to tilt slightly and you’re so determined to get the spirit back that you ignore it completely, instead swiping a hand from left to right. A tree branch comes shooting out and you hop on, skipping at least five of the stone staircases.

A gust of magic hits you as you step onto the rock again, trying to knock you away. Obviously, the spirit is annoyed at your little hack.

“I’m playing fair!” You argue. It’s getting windier the higher you get, no doubt due to the magic rippling through the air.

The green spirit seems displeased but the rock stops moving. From below, the moans have turned to whimpers and snarls and you know his transformation is almost complete. Jeno won’t hurt you, but a part of you hopes you’ll still be at the top when he comes to, so he forgets you’re here.

The rocks start to move again, this time in an x-formation. The ones from below move diagonally upwards until they’re parallel to the green spirit, before dropping back down to the other side.

“ _Seriously?_ ” You cry out, but the movement doesn’t stop.

Timing has never been your strong suit so you wait a few moments to try and figure it out. You set your eye on a rock, moving obediently through the sky, and then leap.

The rock twitches, then drops to the floor.

The wind gets caught in your throat and you stretch your arms out in front of you. The magic in the air seems to freeze, interacting with your own and leaving you suspended in the air. All thoughts leave your brain for a moment, but then a rock slams into your side and you’re off again.

Luckily, the formation means you’re getting closer to the green spirit. It still hasn’t moved and you know the rock it’s on will hold most of its energy, meaning that if you try to stand on there as well you’ll be blown off.

“A moving capture then,” you decide breathlessly.

You unscrew the jar’s lid. The other spirits remain motionless.

Then, you leap.

Time seems to move in slow motion. For a moment you’re struck with a terrifying thought, _what if the spirit moves?_ You watch it all play out in your head, imagining your body hitting a tree trunk with a sickening thwack. Would Jeno hear your pain and come to mourn?

Then common sense grips ahold of you. With one fluid motion, you throw the jar into the air. It scoops up the green spirit, who makes no move to run away, and then using your other hand you crook a finger and pull it back to you.

You slam the lid back on at the same time the world moves in normal speed again. By then, you’re flying through the air.

The magic of self-preservation is one you’ve never seen in motion before, except now. While your brain screams _do not die,_ you almost _feel_ the tendrils of power emit from you like a shockwave, summoning whatever it can get its hand on to save you. The rocks zip past you until one catches in your free hand, causing you to swing off it and change direction.

Another rock is placed under your feet, but you lose footing and stumble into the air. You trip over another, this time fully screaming, before finally finding your footing and beginning to hop from each one.

It’s like a fast-paced, dangerous dance down a staircase, but you manage to make it to the ground, landing on the soft moss and immediately dropping to your knees, almost sobbing with relief. 

There’s a noise behind you. A short, sharp huff that causes you to look around abruptly.

Two yellow eyes are staring you down through a haze of fireflies. You jerk upwards and curl into a ball with the spirits huddled to your chest and your magic ripples around experimentally, unused to having such an endless capacity but ready to defend you if need be.

Your magic is ready to attack, not because you _want_ it to, but because the look Jeno is giving you is invoking every prey-instinct your body has.

There is no warmth behind his eyes. His head is not cocked inquisitively. Instead it is absolutely still, as if he doesn’t intend for you to see him, as if he is just one of the fireflies. His ears are pricked forward. Alert. Attentive.

“Jeno,” you whisper out, hating the way your voice trembles.

He doesn’t respond.

You know it would be easy to reach for the runes in your bag. Perhaps Jeno would lunge for you, but by that time your magic could deflect him away while you chant the incantation. You would be gone before he could figure out what had happened.

But perhaps there was still a part of Jeno in there. What if he was perfectly still because he was fighting his instincts, demanding to let his body know that he recognised you. Would he be hurt that you ran away?

Why hadn't _he_ run away?

“Jeno,” you try again, slowly unfurling yourself so as to not spook him. “It’s me. It’s Y/N.”

He comes closer and closer until you can almost _feel_ his breaths on your face. The two of you observe each other quietly and you’re unsure as to what it is he wants. Surely the pull of the moon was near impossible to resist.

Slowly, as if you were working with a wounded beast, you raise your hand up towards him. You’re met with the feeling of coarse fur as Jeno greets your outstretched palm.

He finally blinks slowly, posture softening as he melts into your touch.

You stay like that for a few moments, taking in his silent beauty while he seems content to just be with you. Then a howl ripples through the night, breaking the silent haven the two of you have created, and Jeno goes ramrod straight. You pull your hand away and watch as he looks into the distance, then back at you with those mesermising eyes.

“Lead the others through the Moon Lilies,” you whisper with a grin, imagining what _that_ sight would look like, even if you’d never be able to see it.

Jeno blinks once more before turning and walking away. You watch him go, never taking your eyes off him even when he melts into the darkness.

You sit there for a while, jar by your side, until the howls start anew.

Under the moonlight, you like to think Jeno’s howl sings just for you.

-


End file.
